


Pinned To The Wall

by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Disaster Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleakim/pseuds/peanutbutterjelly-pie
Summary: -Dean finds himself in a very awkward position involving a hard brick wall, a murderous vampire and a pissed off angel.-
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 273





	Pinned To The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> -
> 
> Written for the WritersOfDestiel's "Prompt Week" challenge.
> 
> I hope you have fun with those idiots being idiots ;D
> 
> -

Dean actually just wanted to make himself comfortable in the next best dive bar and drown his sorrows in alcohol.

And now he's in the back alley and finds himself getting pushed against a hard brick wall in a very unsexy fashion.

With no idea how it happened.

He just parked the Impala in the poorly lit parking lot, went inside the very questionable looking establishment and got himself a beer first thing before joining some guys for pool. No intention to hustle or anything, just for the fun of the game itself.

The men looked like hardcore rockers straight out of an exorbitant music video, but after talking to them for only a few minutes Dean figured out rather fast that they were just a bunch of middle-aged dudes eager to revive some weird kind of 'freedom' or whatever before having to go back home to their wives and kids.

A bit sad, overall, but they were nice enough and Dean found himself desperate for some distraction. So he let himself get lured in, game after game, joking and drinking and _definitely_ _not_ thinking about blue-eyed angels the entire time.

It went on for about an hour before Dean saw himself drifting back to the bar counter and ordered some stronger stuff. It wasn't much, but he craved a little buzz to loosen his constantly tense muscles at least a little bit.

It helped for a short while.

And then he caught himself pondering over criminally blue eyes _again_ _and again_ and he ground his teeth to the point of dental abuse.

Because at the end of the day he just knew, it would be no use. No matter whether he drank himself to death in this bar or hung out back with Sam at their motel room, it didn't make any difference. His mind would _always_ go back to that damned angel and his stupidly deep voice and his stupidly magnetic eyes and those stupidly chapped lips …

Yeah, well …

Dean gave it another half hour, but in the end he realized he was wallowing even more than before. So he bid the rocker dads a brief goodbye, paid the restroom a quick visit and went out of the backdoor to get to the parking lot and return to their ugly motel room and Sam's annoying tendency of wanting to talk about the case _all the time_ , even at three o'clock in the morning.

Dean sighed.

Then suddenly a hand gripped him from the darkness and made him stumble.

And now he is here.

Pinned to that freaking brick wall.

And Dean doesn't need to proclaim himself a genius to realize who has been waiting for him in the shadows, most likely the whole time.

He and Sam had arrived in town a few days prior, lured in by some freaky deaths that seemed to be connected to a lonesome vampire going rogue. Dean heard about them before, those special cases who don't believe in strength in numbers and rather go on for themselves. Some stay in the underground, barely noticeable, while others appear to develop a taste for theatricals.

Gruesome murders, staged crime scenes. Serial killer material, eager to see themselves in the news and laugh about the poor humans having no clue what they're dealing with.

The particular specimen Sam and Dean had come here for even fancies himself to be the new Jack the Ripper, it appears. Mutilations, horrific killings. A true sadistic bastard.

And he obviously heard that hunters are in town looking for him and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Dean growls deeply as he quickly assesses the situation at hand. His back pressed against the wall, his arms trapped, the vampire using his entire body to make Dean immobile.

Yeah, not good _at all_.

Sure, he's got some weapons with him, because otherwise he would feel naked on principle, but that son of a bitch has him pinned real good. Access is clearly impossible in this state right now.

Damn.

“Pretty, little hunter,” the vampire, meanwhile, snarls at him, leaning even closer and having the absolute audacity to let his stinky breath come near Dean's poor nose. “The things I could do to you right now …”

Dean attempts to wiggle himself free while he simultaneously rolls his eyes. “ _Jeez_ , please spare me any stupid speeches, yeah? I've heard enough of them to last me six lifetimes.”

He may be incapable of reaching anything lethal in his arsenal right now, but he's still got his cocky attitude working for him.

And he's determined to make good use of that.

The vampire glares, obviously not thrilled about the lack of fear in Dean's voice. “Your brashness won't help you here –”

“No?” Dean lifts his brows in a challenge. “It actually served me rather well so far. Angels, demons, _Lucifer_. Remember the guy? Put up a hell of a show only to eventually suffer some serious performance issues last minute.”

The vampire blinks, most likely realizing for the first time that he might be dealing with a not so regular hunter. Dean, meanwhile, shoots him a smug smirk and hopes he looks much more confident than he actually is. Because unfortunately if the guy would decide to skip any extravagant foreplay and simply rip Dean's throat out without any hesitation Dean isn't so sure there would be much he could do about it.

But it's not like the vampire needs to know about this. No, Dean is dead set on letting him think the hunter has the upper hand, despite the situation telling him differently. Since a spark of doubt and uncertainty is basically all Dean needs.

And just when he thinks he seriously might have a chance to get out of this alive, with the vampire's grip loosening just a tiny bit, he suddenly registers a movement in the shadows right behind them.

Dean tenses up, wondering whether it's just a random passerby (which could get ugly pretty fast) or if their little vampire guy isn't as friendless as they had originally presumed.

The dark figure approaches them insistently, no doubt about their destination.

And then they pause right underneath a flimsy streetlamp.

Dean's heart instantly jumps as he recognizes the shadow.

“Cas!” he exclaims, suddenly getting bombarded with a thousand different emotions at the sight of his friend and finding himself utterly overwhelmed by the unexpected onslaught.

The hunter part of himself is naturally absolutely delighted to welcome the angel to their little soiree. The odds surely changed in his favor drastically with Cas being there, as always a powerful force to be reckoned with. He could eradicate the vampire with a single tilt of his head, easily as that.

But the _Dean_ part of himself, the part that deals with feelings and all that crap – yeah, that one's not happy to see Cas. The memory of the last time they were with each other too fresh in his mind. When Dean, encouraged by a huge amount of stupidity, went and kissed the angel square on the mouth. And then, completely horrified with himself, ran off and prayed for the ground to swallow him whole.

It's been ten days and so far he was rather successful in steering clear of the angel and his calls. But now, with a freaking vampire pushing him against a wall, he's unable to flee yet again.

“Dean,” Cas greets him, his voice not indicating at all that this is a special situation. “You've been avoiding me.”

Dean stares at the angel incredulously. He wants to talk about this _now_?

“Dude, I'm kinda busy here,” he grunts, nodding at the vampire. “How about we talk about this later?”

Cas looks the opposite of impressed.

“On the contrary, I think this the perfect situation,” he points out. “After all, you can't run off again in a desperate attempt to ignore your feelings.”

Dean gasps for breath. Of all the things he expected to happen today, he never would have thought getting embarrassed in front of a vampire would be one of them.

“I don't – I'm not – _dude_ –” Dean squirms around uncomfortably. “Are you for real?”

Cas blinks and looks down on himself, that expression of mild confusion on his face Dean _totally_ doesn't adore. “Yes, I _am_ for real. I'm rather sure of that.”

Dean scoffs and forces himself not to find everything this damned guy does absolutely adorable while the vampire glances back and forth between them, obviously questioning both of their sanities _hard_.

“How did you even find me?” Dean can't help asking. Did he show up at their motel room and got Sam's intel about Dean's whereabouts? Or is this just a huge coincidence?

“I can sense your longing,” Cas explains easily. Like that is a super normal thing to say. “It's been excessively prominent in the last couple of days.”

Dean stares at him.

He vaguely remembers Claire telling him something like this a while ago, but he didn't give it much thought. In hindsight, quite an error.

“So, what, you've been stalking me?” Dean hisses, not sure what to make of this.

Cas looks at him even more intently. “Your longing became incredibly powerful all of a sudden about an hour ago,” he says. “I couldn't ignore it any longer.”

For a moment Dean's got no clue what is going on. But then he remembers that last glass of whiskey and how it actually spurred him on to think about Cas even more, over and over, missing him like crazy, wishing he was by his side …

Okay, yup, no wonder Cas picked up on that.

Everyone in the whole freaking bar probably noticed by his miserable expression alone, even without supernatural senses.

“Cas, man –”

“You kissed me,” Cas reminds him. As though Dean actually might have forgotten about that small detail somewhere along the way. “You kissed me and then you ran away.”

Oh _dammit_.

The vampire _so_ has to die after this! Not only because of the terrible murders and stuff but also because Dean can't dare to let the creature live and spread its tale about the great Dean Winchester and his pathetic love life. Or lack thereof.

Dean's pretty certain he wouldn't survive this humiliation.

“Cas …” the hunter grunts again, with no idea what to say.

Yes, he kissed Cas. He's been wanting to for quite a while now. And ten days ago, with his inhibitions lowered and Cas looking extra gorgeous smiling softly at a fucking cat video Dean just crumbled. He leaned in and kissed the living daylight out of his friend.

And Cas didn't respond.

Dean fled the room immediately.

“What do you want me to say?” Dean urges, pointedly ignoring the vampire's gaze on him. The guy's probably wondering if he landed in some dumb soap opera by accident. “I'm sorry, alright? It was a mistake –”

“What was?” Cas cuts in, his eyes piercing holes in Dean's very soul. “The kiss or the escape?”

Dean swallows. “Um, both?”

Cas sighs.

Deeply.

Exasperated.

“If you would have waited another second to let me get over my surprise I would have reciprocated,” Cas insists. “Enthusiastically. Passionately.”

Dean gapes.

Oh.

_OH_.

He flushes at the heated gaze Cas has directed at him.

“Uh, you're saying –?” His voice is croaky. Barely coherent at this point.

But of course Cas listens. And he smiles. “Yes. How could you assume anything else?”

Dean presses his lips into a thin line.

He hears Sam's voice whisper, _“I told you so!”_ in the back of his mind, all obnoxious smugness. And Dean hates everything.

But he also feels ridiculously awesome.

Because the angel intended to kiss him back and probably would like to give it another try, hopefully without Dean being a stupid idiot about it again.

_Damn_.

The vampire, however, isn't all that joyful about their little heart-to-heart. “You do realize in what kind of position you are, right? 'Coz you're –”

He doesn't get any further. Thanks to the distraction graciously offered by Cas the vampire had pulled back a little from Dean to keep them both in their line of sight. Only a few inches, but it's more than enough for the hunter to land a hard punch in the guy's solar plexus.

The vampire stumbles backwards, both in pain and surprise, and his eyes instantly widen in shock as Dean pulls out his machete from the inside of his jacket and gives it a good swing. The vampire only has time to let out a last yelp before his head is severed from his torso and rolls down the alley.

Dean inhales deeply as he watches the rest of the body tumble to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Finally.

“Jeez, _thanks_ for the help, Cas,” Dean can't help growling.

Cas merely shrugs. “I knew you could handle yourself.”

Dean shouldn't consider so much confidence in his abilities sexy, but it seems he's a lost cause in that regard. So he can't help feeling utterly hot and bothered being looked at like competence incarnate.

“Well, uh …”

Cas huffs. And then he steps forward and pushes Dean back against the wall again.

This time, however, the hunter doesn't complain. Especially when their lips meet and they soon get lost in each other, making out like they'd never get a chance to do it again, switching between sweet and passionate in the blink of an eye.

Right next to a vampire's corpse.

Because that's Dean's life apparently.

And he wouldn't change it for anything in the world.


End file.
